My Son
My son was sent to war
like so many before,
I sat upon the stone step
where as a baby he crept.
We bad our goodbyes
under clear blue skies,
I hugged him so tightly
touched his cheek sweetly.
My body sank, I cried
with a shudder inside,
my son was sent to war
to fight on a distant shore.
He was young and sprightly
taking life so lightly,
no thoughts of tomorrows
just playing his Banjo.
Summer came and went
my back in pain bent,
when I saw a rainbow
I thought I heard a Banjo.
Then the telegram came
breaking down in shame,
tears wept, searing pain
like fire in my veins.
Fathers stand proud, but mute
hand raised in a stoic salute,
taps played its lament
words spoken in good intent.
My son was sent to war
like so many before,
never to be seen again
mothers remain to live in pain.
Sons, now daughters too
sent off to war, waving adieu,
so many sent too few returned
and nothing,
nothing was learned.
Our sons and daughters
sent off to war,
like so many before
and all they ever were
became just,
a memorial blur.
Β© Alan Noakes
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Comments
wow exceptionally penned
Thank you kindly for your commentΒ glad of your appreciation
Hi Alan, this is a beautiful and extremely heart wrenching peice. As a mother of teenagers it also terrifies me to my core.Β
Lorna x
Β
Thank you Lorna for both reading and your comment its very much appreciated, sadly the voices of so many Mothers are never listened to.
I agree with Lorna on all accounts. (She has said it way better than I could) x
Yes Lorna did say it well nevertheless I thank you for both the read and comment.